After Shen Li returned to his room, Li Ming left as well. He wanted to vent a little about Ji Zhouye, but thought it was better to let them handle things themselves.
Ji Zhouye pushed the door open, and Shen Li, lying on the bed on his side, could only see his back.
The person on the bed suddenly spoke:
“Ji Zhouye, can I go home for a couple of days?”
Ji Zhouye walked over and sat at the edge of the bed, lowering his gaze.
“Why do you want to go home?”
“It’s been a long time since I went back.” Shen Li’s half face was buried under the blanket, eyelashes trembling lightly.
The bedroom lights were off, leaving only a floor lamp. The atmosphere was quiet.
“How many days?”
“I don’t know.” Shen Li’s voice was muffled.
He thought: if Ji Zhouye didn’t let him go, he’d bet everything and tell him the truth—that he was jealous, that he didn’t want to see him with someone else.
He’d only ever spent a little time with Li Ming before, so he didn’t really know Li Ming’s true feelings for Ji Zhouye. He had only heard rumors about them before he and Ji Zhouye had dated.
“Too late tonight. You’ll go tomorrow,” Ji Zhouye said, pulling the blanket down over him. “Not too stuffy?”
“Not really.” Shen Li, being the one leaving first, had no right to complain—but still, the feeling came anyway.
After work, Shen Li went home. It had been a long time since he last came, and a thin layer of dust had settled in the apartment. He tidied up a bit, took a shower, and dozed off.
Earlier at work he had felt slightly unwell, but hadn’t paid much attention.
After two hours of half-sleep, Shen Li realized he had a fever. He searched for medicine but couldn’t find any antipyretics.
Tang Qinian called to ask if he had eaten.
“No.”
Tang Qinian: “Where’s your place? I’ll come find you for dinner.”
“I’ll send you the address on WeChat.”
After hanging up, Shen Li ordered antipyretics through an app.
Half an hour later, Tang Qinian arrived, running into the delivery guy at the door.
“What’s wrong?”
Shen Li took the medicine and thanked the delivery guy. “Nothing, just a slight fever.”
Tang Qinian brought in the food and glanced around.
“What have you gone through this past year? How come you’re living in an apartment now?”
“Some family matters,” Shen Li replied, tossing the medicine onto the coffee table. “The apartment’s fine—living alone in the villa felt too empty.”
Now, even this modest apartment felt empty, devoid of life.
“If you’re struggling, tell me. We’re brothers. Don’t bottle it up.” Tang Qinian unpacked the food and handed him a pair of chopsticks.
Shen Li hadn’t told Tang Qinian about his family troubles this past year. “It’s fine, already resolved.”
“Have you gone for follow-ups?” Tang Qinian asked.
Shen Li’s eyes darkened. “No.”
After going abroad, Shen Li had suffered from depression, becoming withdrawn and self-harming at times. He had no friends, until he met Tang Qinian, who noticed something was wrong and helped him find a psychologist.
Through medication and therapy, Shen Li’s condition had improved significantly.
No one knew about this except Tang Qinian.
“Then it’s fine,” Tang Qinian said, seeing Shen Li seemed okay. After eating, he left.
Almost immediately, Tang Qinian sent a message:
[Your first love is downstairs.]
While abroad, Tang Qinian had seen photos of Ji Zhouye on Shen Li’s coffee table often enough to remember him.
Shen Li looked down from upstairs but didn’t see Ji Zhouye—he must have already left.
Did Ji Zhouye know about Tang Qinian? If he did, would he misunderstand the relationship between Shen Li and Tang Qinian?
He wanted to explain, but didn’t know how. Perhaps Ji Zhouye didn’t even care—he was overthinking.
He tried to type a message, erased it multiple times, and ultimately didn’t send anything.
After taking the fever medicine, he lay in bed but couldn’t sleep. The first night without Ji Zhouye’s presence gave him insomnia.
Tossing and turning, he set the AC to the lowest temperature. The cold filled the room, and Shen Li buried his face in the blanket.
His relationship with Ji Zhouye was subtle, delicate, and awkward.
Shen Li knew why he felt this way, but didn’t understand why Ji Zhouye’s mood had shifted.
Why was Ji Zhouye acting stubborn?
The fever returned within two hours—the medicine had little effect.
When someone’s sick, all their pent-up grievances rush to the surface. Shen Li couldn’t endure silently any longer.
After much hesitation, he called Ji Zhouye.
Ji Zhouye picked up, his voice weak but accusing:
“Why are you being stubborn with me?”
Even if Ji Zhouye didn’t show it outwardly, Shen Li could sense the change in his mood.
Hearing his voice, Ji Zhouye furrowed his brows:
“You’re sick?”
Shen Li’s voice was muffled.
“Answer me first—why are you acting stubborn with me? Weren’t we fine this morning?”
“Talk in person,” Ji Zhouye said, then hung up.
He hadn’t returned to the apartment immediately. Instead, he drove there and called the family doctor while waiting for the elevator.
The doorbell rang. Shen Li dragged his weak, shivering body to the door. Ji Zhouye stood there; without a word, Shen Li turned and went back.
Ji Zhouye entered, and the cool air hit him—inside the apartment, it was another world entirely.
Shen Li returned to bed, curling into the blanket. Ji Zhouye set the AC to 26°C, ignoring Shen Li’s wishes.
Shen Li grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.
“Ji Zhouye, this is my house—don’t touch the AC!”
Ji Zhouye caught the pillow, placed it aside, and put his hand on Shen Li’s forehead.
The back of his hand on Shen Li’s forehead felt like a calming charm—Shen Li immediately quieted.
Ji Zhouye’s expression darkened, eyes full of anger:
“Fever and the AC still this low? You’re asking for trouble.”
Shen Li, with a hint of subconscious self-destructiveness, didn’t care.
“You still haven’t told me—why are you acting stubborn with me?”
Ji Zhouye’s face remained serious.
“Who did you have dinner with tonight?”
Shen Li realized: “Ji Zhouye, you’re investigating me. You don’t trust me, do you? You don’t believe I’ll stay beside you quietly.”
“People who leave without warning after breaking up… what trust is left?” Ji Zhouye restrained his anger. “Shen Li, tell me, how am I supposed to believe you?”
Shen Li remained silent. He had no right to question Ji Zhouye.
Sitting up, he placed his thin, defined hand on Ji Zhouye’s. Weakly, he said:
“Did you check if Tang Qinian had a girlfriend? He just broke up recently.”
Ji Zhouye paused—he hadn’t checked, didn’t know.
Some things he didn’t dare look into, afraid of results he wouldn’t want to see.
The family doctor had arrived, and Ji Zhouye went to open the door.